The Thirteen

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 4 (v.1) - Four

Submitted: July 08, 2008

Reads: 181

Comments: 2

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Submitted: July 08, 2008




The jazz band stopped. Everybody in the dancing hall turned around. There were a few nervous giggles and some clinking of white china. Then the air siren came, humming and drumming and wailing and sending fear into the heart of everybody in the English countryside. The people moved quickly, ushered by the waiters who, with violent gestures, were forcing people down to the wine cellar. 1940. Jonny wasn't afraid, he was young and strong and was enjoying life. It had been an odd evening though.

Just then his heart leaped. Out of the side of his eye he spyed a certain little lady, her eyes pale, wide and open with far too much red lipstick on. She was quite plain and her clothes were odd, like a man's, jeans and a top. Strange girl. Very modern... strange... but she was drawing him closer, like the siren song it made him move away from the crowd. Like a fish to it's bait he was moving closer and closer. What was this? How had he lost control? But...

And she had him in his grasp. And they were running outside. And the rain was falling. And up above the search lights struck the sky illuminating black crosses of bombers but Jonny didn't care, they were running and laughing and the bombs were falling but he didn't care and the flames were licking at every side but he didn't care because he was in her arms and her name was Life and her name was Nectar and her name was Joy.

But then the fear struck. Fear like Jonny had never felt before because before him was the man dressed in a black suit, oblivious to the falling shrapnel, because it was himself standing there, looking pitiful. And he remembered early in the evening when the strange gentleman had whispered frantic, as if scared, in his ears ' Be wary of yourself. There's evil there', and then vanished as if into the smoke.
As he looked into his own eyes there was a deep whistle that got louder and louder, and mixed into the whistle was the girls shrill laughter and mixed into the deathly bomb that blew Jonny to pieces that day was the word;


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